Somewhere down the line

I’m nineteen years old and my pockets are empty
I sit in a room and it’s full of light
The kind of sunray that invades a room at 4pm
Begging me for attention one last time
As the sun gets ready to go to bed
I wish I had more to give than just a glance
Perhaps someday, I tell myself

I’m twenty five years old, my pockets are better
I check my watch and he’s late again
Give me the patience to not get mad
When the morning comes and I wake up feeling
Like someone dismantled me when I was asleep
Pieced me back in a hurry and left out some parts
Such mornings will pass I tell myself

I’m thirty years old, my pockets don’t matter
I sit in a room and it’s full of light
I hear the sound of laughter as she runs towards me
With a little pot and a wooden spoon
I could kiss the sun a million times
As she falls into my arms and makes me complete
This is the day I’ve been waiting for